


the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

by oftirnanog



Series: forever is the sweetest con [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Dean Winchester Talks About Feelings, Domestic, Drinking, First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Non-Penetrative Sex, Post-Canon, it's scary getting everything you ever wanted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28435851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oftirnanog/pseuds/oftirnanog
Summary: He’s so desperate not to fuck this up that he’s given himself a complex. So they’ve made out on the new couch in the Dean cave while watching old westerns and they trade kisses in the morning and they’ve even slept in the same bed on more than one occasion. But all they’ve done is sleep. Anytime Dean thinks he’s ready to push things further, to roll Cas over and grind into him in a way that leaves no room for interpretation, he gets inside his head and ends up slowing things down before they get to the good part.In which Dean is too much inside his head about sex with Cas, consults the women in his life about it, and finally gets over himself enough that they finally get naked. This time they also cook Beef Wellington.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Series: forever is the sweetest con [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2082891
Comments: 16
Kudos: 186





	the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

**Author's Note:**

> in case this title and the title of the series hasn’t clued you in, yes i am going to pull every title in this series from taylor swift’s “cowboy like me.” no you cannot stop me. 
> 
> this got wildly out of hand. i meant for it to be like 5k lol. also i haven't written smut in an age what am i even doing.
> 
> unbeta'd even though something this length probably should be. sorry for any mistakes, etc.

After their display in the kitchen, Dean would have thought he and Cas would fall into bed quickly and easily. It turns out that given the time and space to overthink it, Dean has made himself unexpectedly nervous. Cas, for his part, seems to be taking Dean’s lead on this aspect of their relationship, for which Dean is grateful, but at this point he also might need Cas to initiate in order for Dean to get over himself.

The thing is, Dean doesn’t have much experience with this. The guy thing, sure, that’s part of it. He’s hooked up with guys in the past, but it’s never gone beyond a quick and dirty hand job in a bathroom stall or a blow job in the back of the Impala on those occasions he was hunting alone. But it’s not just that. There have been exactly three people in Dean’s life with whom he even entertained the possibility of something long term. And one of those people is Cas. 

He’s so desperate not to fuck this up that he’s given himself a complex. So they’ve made out on the new couch in the Dean cave while watching old westerns and they trade kisses in the morning and they’ve even slept in the same bed on more than one occasion. But all they’ve done is sleep. Anytime Dean thinks he’s ready to push things further, to roll Cas over and grind into him in a way that leaves no room for interpretation, he gets inside his head and ends up slowing things down before they get to the good part.

It’s been two weeks and at this point he’s frustrated with himself. It’s probably something he should talk to Cas about, but that thought launches him directly into fight or flight mode, which is not conducive to a conversation. So instead he’s been jerking off in the shower, a practice that not only leaves him unsatisfied, but sometimes actively makes him feel worse. It’s a problem. 

Eventually he decides that if he can’t bring himself to talk to Cas about it, he should at least talk to _somebody_. Sam is the first and most obvious choice, but he’s also not a choice at all because no way in hell is he talking to his little brother about his sex life (or lack thereof) with their angel best friend. It’s one thing to try to gross him out on purpose with his various sexcapades and another thing entirely to have a serious conversation that involves emotions he can barely say out loud to himself. Sam had already tried cornering him to tell him that he was happy for them. Which had been fine up until the point that Sam’s expression morphed into something altogether too serious and sincere, and he said, “You know you could’ve told me that you—” Dean cut him off before he could finish and took Miracle for a walk to escape the bunker. He can’t talk to Sam about this.

He goes to Donna first.

“Will you look at who finally decided to call?” she says, instead of ‘hello.’

“Hey, Donna,” he says with a laugh.

“And here I thought I was going to have to get all my updates through Sam now.”

“Sorry,” Dean says. “I shoulda called sooner.”

“Oh, I’m just bugging ya,” Donna says. “Almost dying gives you a free pass.”

Dean laughs. 

“So,” Donna says. “How’ve you been? I mean nearly dying aside. I hear you have a boy toy now.”

Dean feels heat rise to his face. “Well, that’s one way to put it, I guess.”

Donna laughs and says, “I’m just teasing. I’m happy for you. It’s about time you two got things sorted.” 

“Not you, too,” Dean says, sighing with faux exasperation but smiling the entire time. As much as he can’t help squirming under the knowledge that apparently he and Cas came as a surprise to exactly no one, he’s less squirmy about Donna knowing.

Donna laughs even harder at that, and, man, Dean _misses_ her.

“I hope you’re calling to tell me you’re coming up for a visit,” she says. 

Dean can hear her smile, can picture it perfectly. “I wish. But now that you mention it, I’d be up for a road trip soon.”

“Hey, no pressure. It’d just be nice to see ya.”

“Yeah, it would.”

“So what’s up then?” she asks. “You gotta case for me?”

“Uh, no.” Dean brings his hand to the back of his neck and tries to figure out how to broach this. What’s he supposed to say exactly? Cas is great but I’m terrified to have sex with him? “I, uh…”

Donna lets the silence hang for a long moment. Dean doesn’t attempt to fill it.

“Did I lose ya?” she asks eventually.

“No, no, I’m still here,” Dean assures her.

“You okay?”

“It’s, uh...it’s about Cas, actually.”

“Okay,” she prompts, when he doesn’t continue.

Fuck, why is this so hard? “We, uh. Things are really good. Like, really good. I...we...he’s fucking great. I mean, I never thought I’d ever get to have this.” Great. Now he’s rambling. “But we haven’t...we _haven’t_ , yet.”

“Ah,” Donna says. Dean is so grateful that she gets it. “Does he not want to?” She asks the question so carefully. 

All at once he remembers exactly why he loves Donna so much. Everything is easy with her. She takes people as they are. Takes Dean exactly how he is. Weird food habits and emotional baggage and all. No judgement. It’s more than Dean could ever think to ask for. 

And just like that, he’s telling her everything, words spilling out in a rush before he has a chance to think too hard about it. “No, this is all me. We’ve come close, so many times. And I know he wants to. Hell, I want to! But I’m all in my head about it. I just keep overthinking it. It’s like, I dunno, I’ve never loved somebody like this before. I’ve never had the chance to have something...something permanent or long term and sex has always been this casual, one night, wham bam thank you ma’am kinda thing, and I guess I’m just worried I’m gonna screw it up. That sex is gonna screw it up. Somehow. Sounds stupid, doesn’t it?”

“No,” Donna says. “I don’t think that sounds stupid at all.” She pauses. “Have you talked to Cas about this?”

Dean winces. “No.”

“Dean.”

“I know.” Dean scrubs his hand over his face. Because he does. He _knows_.

“Listen. I’m not gonna pretend to be an expert on these things, and I don’t know Cas all that well, but I do know enough to know that he cares about you a lot. And that whatever is going on with you, he’s gonna understand. You gotta trust that, you know?”

Dean sighs. “Yeah, I know.” He laughs. “Thanks Donna. I think I just needed someone to kick my ass.”

“Anytime,” she says. “And I expect a visit from you soon.”

“Definitely.”

He feels better when he hangs up. He’s being ridiculous about this whole thing. He just needs to talk to Cas. Or get over himself. This isn’t a big deal. He doesn’t know why he’s so in his head about it. It’s just sex. Something he’s done plenty of times. It shouldn’t be this hard. It _isn’t_ this hard. He’s just complicating it.

Dean gives himself an ultimatum: either he and Cas have sex tonight, or he talks to Cas about why he’s been so squirrely over the whole thing. It’s win-win, he figures, because he’d really rather not have to talk about this, so that alone should be enough to motivate him into finally going for it. 

It’s about time to take Miracle for a walk, so Dean heads out of his room and wanders through the bunker to see where he’s gotten to. He finds him in the library, curled up in one of the arm chairs while Sam and Cas pull books from the shelves and stack them into various piles on the floor and tables. Sam’s taken on the task of digitizing and properly re-cataloging the bunker’s impressive wealth of knowledge, and Cas had offered to help even though the digital portion of things is somewhat beyond his grasp. He’s excellent at organizing. 

Cas is dressed in a pair of Dean’s sweats and one of his old t-shirts because while he’d finally coaxed Cas out of his regular suit and trenchcoat get-up, they still haven’t gotten around to getting him clothes of his own. It does things to Dean to see Cas wearing his clothes, causes something warm and electric to unfurl in his belly. And then Cas reaches for some books on the top shelf, pulling his shirt up enough to reveal a strip of skin above the sweatpants that are hanging almost scandalously low on his hips (and hugging Cas more closely than they do Dean, leaving very little to the imagination). 

Dean stops so he can stare at him. Cas wearing his clothes would be enough, but add to that the stretch and pull of Cas’s muscles as he adjusts the stack of books in his arms, and the fact that Dean’s spent most of the day so far thinking about sex with Cas, and Dean has to shift as all the blood in his body tries to rush south. 

“Earth to Dean,” Sam says, and Dean blinks.

Sam shakes his head in amusement. Cas doesn’t see this because he turned to look at Dean, as soon as Sam said his name. He looks at him so fondly, like he’s pleased just to be in the same room as him, that Dean suddenly doesn’t care at all if Sam finds them amusing. He doesn’t care at all if Sam sees him walk over to Cas, hook an arm around his waist, and plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He’s prevented from a full kiss by the stack of books Cas has tucked against his chest.

“Hey,” Dean says quietly, pulling back just enough to look at Cas.

“Hello,” Cas replies in his deep rumble.

Dean’s heart starts beating faster. He steps back then, biting his lip as he goes, because all he wants is to press Cas up against the bookshelf, but he actually _does_ care if Sam sees that. He glances at his brother to see his reaction, but Sam has engrossed himself sorting through a stack of books. 

“I was going to take Miracle for a walk, you want to come?”

Miracle perks up immediately at the word ‘walk,’ tags jingling as he jumps from the chair and trots over to Dean. He stretches and yawns, and then plants himself at Dean’s feet, fixing him with an expectant look. Dean reaches down to rub his head and turns his head to look at Cas. “What do you say?”

Cas looks at Sam. “Do you mind?”

“No, man, go for it. I can keep going on my own.” Sam comes over to relieve Cas of the stack he’s holding, just to emphasize his point.

“Okay,” Cas says, smiling at Dean.

“Where’s Eileen at?” Dean asks.

“She’s on a call with Jody. She’s got a banshee thing and needed some tips,” Sam says.

“She need an assist on that?”

“Guess we’ll find out.”

Dean nods and Miracle lets out a low whine to make sure he didn’t forget about the walk that was promised.

“Okay, okay, we’re going.”

It’s warmer than it has been the past few days. The sun is shining in a clear blue sky and the air has the smell of spring even though it’s mid-November and this is probably the last of the warmth before winter settles in. The bunker is removed enough from town that they can walk a long circuit without running into anyone, so Dean takes Cas’s hand and tugs him close. Cas goes easily and happily. Dean’s heart sings.

Despite all his weird and unexpected hang-ups about the sexual aspect of their relationship, this is easier than he ever could have imagined. Holding Cas’s hand feels natural. They fall into casual touches like it’s the most normal thing in the world when they’re kicking around the bunker. Dean finds he can’t stop touching him. A hand on the small of his back, his mouth pressed into Cas’s shoulder, fingers dancing up the back of his neck into his hair. He’d feel overly needy about the whole thing if Cas weren’t just as generous with his own touch. If they’re in the same room, it’s only a matter of time before one of them has a hand on the other. Every time it sends a thrill through Dean’s limbs. That this is his life now.

They walk in silence for a little while, hands clasped, watching Miracle as he sniffs every tree that he encounters. Dean asks about the cataloging. They speculate about Jody’s banshee case. Dean suggests they visit Donna soon. Eventually the conversation drifts to dinner. Cas still insists that he doesn’t need to eat and that everything still more or less tastes like molecules, but he’s been partaking in meals more than usual lately. Dean thinks Cas doesn’t want him to notice, but he has, and he wants to make sure Cas has food he actually wants to eat in the event that he’s properly hungry.

But this is also an opening.

“I was thinking maybe we could order a pizza,” Dean says. “We could eat it in my room. Watch a movie or something.”

He lets the unspoken implication hang between them. He can’t believe he just asked Cas to Netflix and chill. 

Cas gives him a long look, like he wants to be sure he’s reading the invitation correctly. Dean raises his eyebrows. He was going for a suggestive waggle, but his nerves have once again gotten the best of him so it falls short. His palm is growing sweaty where it’s pressed against Cas’s.

“I’d like that,” Cas finally says. He squeezes Dean’s hand.

“Awesome.” 

Dean’s relief at having gotten the ball rolling lasts until they’re back in the bunker. 

When they get in, Sam and Eileen have packed a bag and are getting ready to head out. Jody needs their help after all. Dean offers to go with them because it’s the right thing to do. Not because he’s trying to avoid being alone with Cas. But Sam assures him it’s not an all hands on deck situation.

“You guys stay here,” Sam insists. “Have a chill night.”

“Netflix and chill _was_ the plan,” Cas says.

Sam’s eyebrows jump and he makes a stuttering noise of distress. Dean nearly chokes on his own tongue. Eileen smiles like a cheshire cat. 

Cas looks at them all with mild confusion. “Is that not the correct term?”

“It-it is, Cas, it’s just—” Dean shuts his eyes and takes a breath. “It’s not something you generally _tell_ people. Especially when those people are your brother.”

Sam splutters some more before saying, “We’re gonna go.”

“Have fun,” Eileen says with a suggestive lilt, and waggles her fingers in a good-bye as they head up the stairs. 

Cas watches them go, his brow still furrowed, then turns to Dean. “Are you all right?”

That’s when Dean realizes he’s pinched his eyes closed again. He blinks them open and tries to sound convincing when he says, “Yeah, Cas. I’m good. I’m gonna to go order that pizza.”

He has to go pick up the pizza because ordering to the bunker poses some problems. Dean thinks it’s a stroke of accidental genius on his part. Now he has the trip to and from the restaurant to calm his nerves and talk himself down from this ledge that is entirely of his own making. 

He’s just congratulating himself on such an excellent strategy when he enters his room with the pizza and finds that Cas has lit candles. They’re on the bedside table and the ledge along the wall, and they’re throwing little dancing shadows all over the room. If he looks at it logically, the candles don’t actually change anything about tonight. But they do emphasize the significance of it. They add weight somehow. They might as well be a flashing neon sign reading, “THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING YOU’VE EVER DONE,” for the way they send Dean into a fresh tailspin. His heart rate kicks up to such a degree that he worries he’s about to spiral into an honest-to-god panic attack, and wouldn’t that just be the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to him. 

Cas is already settled on the bed with Dean’s laptop set up. He’s wearing one of Dean’s old hoodies. He looks so soft and inviting that it’s almost enough to calm Dean down. Almost. 

Cas smiles at him and Dean does his best to respond in kind. He climbs onto the bed and sets out some napkins. He tries to stop his hands from shaking as he passes a slice of pizza to Cas. He lets Cas pick the movie, which was a mistake because Cas picks _The Lost Boys_ , a movie they’ve seen dozens of times because, right, the intention here is not to actually _watch_ the movie. Dean’s heart races into double time again. He can barely eat his pizza.

It’s stupid. He’s being _so stupid_. He’s turning this into a problem when it’s the furthest thing from a problem. Unfortunately, just because Dean knows this doesn’t mean he can stop it. He’s so frustrated with himself he could scream and he can feel himself becoming irritated because of it. And his solution for not taking this out on Cas is to interact with him as little as possible. 

Of course, Cas notices. Dean is sitting stiff as a board with his arms crossed and a good two feet of space between them. He keeps glancing over at Dean, but makes no move to close the distance between them. He looks terribly unsure of himself. Dean _hates_ himself.

Eventually Cas sighs and pauses the movie. “Dean.”

“Yeah, buddy,” he says, and mentally kicks himself as soon as he does. Cas’s face does something complicated hearing him say ‘buddy.’

Dean is no stranger to self-loathing, but he’s plumbing new depths of that emotion tonight.

Cas frowns down at his hands for a moment and then properly looks at Dean. “You know we don’t have to have sex tonight if you don’t want to.”

Dean works his way through a rapid series of emotions. His face flushes in a war between embarrassment and arousal at Cas saying the word ‘sex.’ This is followed by a swoop of relief that he immediately feels guilty for because the only reason they’re in this predicament is because he can’t bring himself to just use his fucking words. He doesn’t deserve Cas.

“I—” Dean starts, but stops as soon as he realizes he doesn’t know what to say.

“We can just watch the movie.”

“We’ve seen it like a hundred times,” he says weakly. It’s a token protest. And it’s thoroughly unconvincing.

If Cas is disappointed he does a good job hiding it. He shrugs and says, “I don’t mind.”

Dean’s still marinating in a pool of self-loathing, but he goes with Cas when he shifts closer and pulls Dean in. Dean hides his face against Cas’s shoulder and Cas tilts his head against him. He presses play on the movie even though Dean is no longer looking at the screen. 

Dean can still see the flickering candle light from the corner of his eyes.

*

When Dean wakes the next morning, Cas is no longer in his bed. This isn’t unusual, but as the events of the night before come back to Dean in a sick rush, he immediately wants to crawl back under his covers and not re-emerge for ten or twenty years or maybe ever. He keeps being clobbered by the irony of the fact that he’s going to mess this up precisely because he’s terrified of messing it up. It’s pathetic, is what it is, especially when he knows the solution is simply talking to Cas. 

Not for the first time, Dean wonders how long it will be before Cas gives up on his sad sack self as a lost cause. He has no recent evidence to suggest that Cas would do this, but the anxiety persists nonetheless.

Dean does eventually drag himself out of bed, driven more by hunger and an emerging caffeine withdrawal headache than anything resembling courage. When he gets to the kitchen, Cas is sitting at the table with a cup of coffee and a bowl that contains the dregs of cereal milk. 

“Good morning,” Cas says.

“‘Mornin’, sunshine,” he says, doing what he can to push past the shame crawling up his throat.

He decides to behave as though whatever happened last night didn’t happen, so he leans down and kisses Cas. Cas looks surprised for half a second, but then he leans into it. 

Dean pours himself some coffee and grabs a bowl for cereal, then sits down across from Cas and lets his foot wander over to his side of the table, nudging against Cas’s ankle with his toes.

“Hungry this morning?” Dean asks, gesturing at Cas’s empty bowl with his spoon.

Cas shrugs. “Just a little. This Krunch Cookie Crunch is strange though.”

Dean laughs. “Probably because it’s mostly sugar.” He shovels a large spoonful of the stuff into his mouth and then smiles at Cas as well as he can with a mouthful of miniature cookies passing themselves off as breakfast cereal.

Cas smiles back, and it’s a little sad around the edges. Dean should ask him about that, but he’s too worried that he’s the cause of it.

“So what’s on the agenda today?” he says instead.

“I thought I’d continue cataloging the library. Sam would appreciate it, I think.”

“Sure. We can do that.”

“You want to help?” Cas asks, visibly surprised.

“Yeah, of course. I mean, I want to hang out. We can do that while we catalog books.”

Cas looks pleased and Dean thinks maybe he’s on the way to redeeming himself. 

They spend the morning and part of the afternoon in the library. Dean lets Cas take charge and follows the system he and Sam set up. Just after lunch, Sam calls to tell them they’ve wrapped up the banshee problem and that Jody is going to swing by for dinner and stay the night. Dean decides that this calls for a proper meal, so he leaves Cas to continue in the library while he makes a grocery and beer run.

Jody always feeds them extremely well whenever they find themselves in her neck of the woods, so Dean wants to pull out the big guns, and once he gets Beef Wellington into his head he can’t let it go. He finds a recipe that includes green peppercorn sauce and potatoes to go with it, and sets to work in the kitchen.

Cas wanders in as Dean’s rolling out the puff pastry. 

“Can I help with anything?” he asks.

“I’m just about done, actually,” Dean says, but Cas looks a bit put out by this, so he adds, “Unless you want to help with the pastry.”

Dean dusts some more flour on the counter and rubs the excess over the rolling pin. Then he shifts aside and hands the rolling pin to Cas. Cas takes it, but then stares at the pastry, at a loss for how to proceed.

“Here,” Dean says, coming in behind him. He reaches around Cas to close his hands over Cas’s on the rolling pin. Then he guides him over the pastry, stopping to turn the dough and keep it from sticking to the counter. This close, Dean can smell the dust of library books on him and also the lingering scent of laundry detergent because he’s wearing Dean’s clothes again. 

“Perfect,” Dean says, right in Cas’s ear when they get the pastry to the right thickness. 

Dean steps back to pull the beef from the fridge and then shows Cas how to wrap it up with the pastry and apply an egg wash. He lets Cas put it in the oven and sets the timer.

“And now we wait,” Dean says.

Cas is leaning back against the counter, hands still dusty with flour. He’s gotten more of it on his t-shirt as well. Dean leans into him, bracing his hands on the counter on either side of Cas, and places a kiss on his jaw. Cas tilts his head up, giving Dean better access, and Dean takes advantage, mouthing over his throat, dragging his teeth over the corded muscles in his neck and then soothing it with sloppy, open mouth kisses. Cas groans and ducks his head, catching Dean’s lips with his. And it’s easy again, just like that. Dean lifts a hand to cradle Cas’s face and Cas presses his hand into the small of Dean’s back, pulling him closer. Maybe this is all Dean needed to do. Get him into a low stakes situation like cooking and let all his anxieties drop away. 

Cas gets his hand under Dean’s shirt and digs his fingernails into his skin just enough that he can feel it. Dean rolls his hips. This is finally going to happen. Dean lets his other hand trail at the waist band of Cas’s jeans, fingers dipping under the band as he brings it around to press flat against Cas’s belly, teasing at the trail of hair that disappears into his boxers. 

“Dean,” Cas pants his name into his jaw as his nose drags against Dean’s cheekbone.

Dean drops his hand lower, dancing his fingers over the length of Cas through the denim.

“Dean.” This time it comes out like a plea.

Dean pops the top button and gets a hold on the zipper. Cas makes a desperate sound that’s going to live rent free in Dean’s mind for the rest of his life.

“Something smells incredible in here,” comes a female voice from the hall.

Dean doesn’t jump back from Cas this time, but he does let out a low growl of frustration and remove his hand from the front of Cas’s jeans. He drops his head to Cas’s shoulder, and braces both hands on the counter again. Cas is breathing heavily beneath him. His hands are still on Dean’s back, but they’re no longer under his shirt. 

“Seriously, you guys, again?” Sam says, when he enters the kitchen and finds Dean tucked up against Cas.

Dean lifts his head and glares at his brother. Jody at least looks a bit sorry to have interrupted them.

Cas slides his hands down to Dean’s hips and pushes him gently away, looking very regretful about it. 

“Are we going to have to make a ‘no sex in the kitchen’ rule?” Sam asks, because he’s the literal worst and takes pleasure in Dean’s discomfort.

He chances a look at Cas, but he’s looking steadfastly at the counter. A stab of guilt shoots through him. He can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed about the fact that Cas now has flour on his face and in his hair from Dean having had his hands all over him.

“We’ve already broken that rule,” Eileen says, raising her eyebrows at Sam.

Dean’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks between Sam and Eileen. Sam’s face reddens, while Eileen looks inordinately pleased with herself.

“What exactly am I getting into here?” Jody asks, effectively breaking the tension. 

“Christ,” Dean mutters. He comes around the counter to pull Jody into a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

Jody wraps her arms around Dean and squeezes, swaying a bit into the hug in a way that makes Dean want to keep hanging on. Jody gives great hugs.

“It’s good to see you, too.” She pulls back to look at him. “You look good for someone who almost died recently.”

Dean snorts and shakes his head. “Yeah, well, I’ve had some practice.”

“Yes, perhaps that’s a habit you’ll think about breaking,” Cas says, stepping in beside Dean.

Jody immediately pulls him into a hug and Cas is startled for a moment before his face softens and he leans into it. 

“So what’s for dinner?” Jody asks.

*

“The food really was incredible,” Jody says.

She and Dean have claimed the arm chairs in the corner and are passing a bottle of bourbon back and forth. Sam, Eileen, and Cas have pulled up chairs from the tables to form a sort of half-circle, but Cas is nodding off and trying to pretend he isn’t, while Sam and Eileen are having their own conversation, primarily in sign language. 

“High praise,” Dean replies.

Jody snorts. “You give my cooking more credit than it deserves.”

Eileen laughs at something Sam says, drawing their attention. She signs something that Dean doesn’t quite catch, but Sam says, “Eileen,” in a scandalized tone, so Dean knows it was something dirty.

She just laughs again and says, “They’re not paying attention.”

“She’s right,” Dean says. “We’re not.”

It doesn’t stop Sam from blushing and shifting uncomfortably in his chair. But the look he gives Eileen is also what one might call ‘heated’, so Dean figures he can’t be too bothered.

“Okay,” Eileen says, getting up and tugging on Sam’s hand. “I think we’re going to go to bed.” 

Sam gives her a surprised look, but doesn’t put up a fight. “‘Night guys,” he says, without so much as a backward glance.

“They seem happy,” Jody says.

“Yeah, they are.”

Beside him, Cas lets out a sharp snore that startles him awake. Worry clenches in Dean’s chest even though he knows this is normal with Cas’s grace sliding in and out the way it has been. He still doesn’t understand what that means. If it will fade entirely someday, and what it would mean for Cas if it does. He hasn’t been brave enough to ask or even think about it for too long.

He leans over and puts a hand on the back of Cas’s neck, rubbing his thumb into the corner of his jaw. “You should go to bed.”

“Mm,” Cas says in response. “I don’t sleep.”

Even as he says it his eyes droop shut too long to pass off as a blink. “Coulda fooled me,” Dean replies.

Cas sighs. “I suppose you’re right.” 

He brings his hand to Dean’s wrist and turns his head so he can kiss Dean’s palm. Dean is hyper-aware that Jody is watching them, but he still tilts his head up to kiss Cas on the mouth when he leans in.

“I’ll be there in a bit,” Dean assures him.

“Goodnight, Jody.”

“‘Night, Cas.”

Dean watches Cas go and when he finally looks at Jody she’s wearing a soft expression.

“What?” he asks defensively.

“Did I say anything?”

“Your face said something.”

She just smiles at him, too smart not to see past his bluster. “You look happy.”

Dean’s chest does something complicated. Because he is happy. Happier, probably, than he’s ever been in his life, than he even thought was possible. And he loves Cas so much that sometimes he thinks he loves him too much. And he’s terrified. Terrified that it’s been just a few weeks and he’s already fucking it up. 

He tips more bourbon into his glass.

“Or you did just a second ago,” she amends, reacting to whatever changed in his face.

“No, I am. I really, honestly am.”

“But?” She pours herself another splash of bourbon.

“But nothing, really. Seriously,” he says when he sees her look of skepticism. “There is not a single but. I’m just...I dunno, in my head about it I guess.”

“It’s a pretty scary thing, getting everything you want.” Jody gives him a sharp look. She has a way of hitting on exactly how Dean’s feeling and putting into words in a way he can’t. It makes him feel slightly less embarrassed and inept about the whole thing.

“Yeah.” Dean shakes his head and downs the rest of his bourbon in one shot. It burns all the way down and he immediately pours himself more.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Dean busies his hands tracing over the cut glass patterns of his tumbler. “We, uh, we haven’t...you know. Yet.”

“Okay.” Jody takes a sip and considers this. “So you’re taking it slow. Any particular reason?”

“Yeah, I’m a fucking basket case about it every time we get close.”

“Didn’t look that way in the kitchen,” she teases. 

Dean doesn’t know how she does it. Makes things easier to talk about. Lightens the mood in exactly the right way so that Dean doesn’t immediately shut down.

He huffs. “That’s actually the closest we’ve gotten to...in weeks.”

“Sorry we cock blocked you.” She smiles, still lightly teasing, then stares at Dean for a moment. “You know you have to talk to him about this, right?”

Dean groans and rubs his hand over his face. “That’s what Donna said.”

“Smart lady.”

Dean sighs. “Fuck.”

“C’mon, you’ve done harder things than this,” Jody says. “You’ve saved the world! You’ve defeated God! Not that I want to think too long about that one. But you’re Dean Winchester. I think you can talk to your boyfriend about sex.”

Dean makes a face. “Christ. It sounds so...teen angsty when you say it like that.”

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. “Unfortunately, just ‘cause we’re adults doesn’t mean we don’t sometimes act like teenagers.”

“Well, I think that calls for another drink.”

Jody laughs and holds out her glass for more. 

They stay up way too late and drink far too much, but Cas still wraps his arms around Dean when he finally crawls into bed. And maybe it’s the bourbon talking, but it feels like they’re going to be okay. Whatever hang-ups they have working against them, Dean vows to tackle them head on. First thing in the morning.

Of course he makes that vow to himself before his hangover sets in.

Dean hasn’t had a hangover like this since...well, since right after the Empty swallowed Cas, if he’s being honest. But he’d rather not be right now, so he pushes that thought aside and turns his focus to breathing through the wave of nausea that hits when he sits up. 

He fumbles through the drawer in the bedside table for some aspirin and then remembers he won’t find any because he’s in Cas’s room. Instead he finds a bottle of lube, which would be interesting if he could see without pain bursting against the backs of his eyes. He groans and stumbles out of bed, shuffling his way through the bunker in search of painkillers. He ends up finding some in the bathroom and swallows them dry before brushing his teeth to get the terrible stale alcohol taste from his mouth.

With that small accomplishment under his belt, Dean makes his way to the kitchen in a quest for coffee. He’s hit with the smell of French toast as soon as he enters, which is frankly too much in his current state, but he pushes through. Jody looks even rougher than Dean feels, which he thinks should probably be impossible. She’s clutching a mug of steaming coffee like it might cure her hangover through osmosis. A plate of dry, untouched toast sits at her elbow.

Dean pours himself a cup of coffee and then slides into the seat next to Cas. As soon as he’s seated he lets his head drop to the table and leans some of his weight against Cas, who immediately starts rubbing circles into Dean’s back. Dean’s head is throbbing with such ferocity he can almost hear it. 

“Not to be a jerk, but I’m kinda glad to see you’re in as rough shape as I am,” Jody says. Her voice has more gravel than usual. They drank _so much_. “If you’d been okay I might’ve had to kill you.”

“Less talking please,” Dean says into his arms. A fresh wave of French toast aroma hits his nose and his stomach roils. He groans. “Why are we near food right now?”

“Because it’s where the coffee is,” Jody says.

He lifts his head and looks blearily across the table at her. “I’m not even sure I can drink mine.”

Jody looks at her own coffee mug and grimaces. It’s still mostly full. “Yeah.”

“That’s what you two get for drinking all the bourbon,” Sam says, with all the force of his overgrown lungs.

Jody winces and Dean mumbles, “Volume.”

“Here, come here,” Cas says, voice pitched low. 

He gets his hand into Dean’s hair, cradling the back of his head, and guides Dean until his face is tucked into Cas’s shoulder. Dean waits for the cold tingle of grace, but it doesn’t come. He feels Cas tense up and press his fingers in just a little bit harder. Cas brings his other hand to the side of Dean’s face and Dean lifts his head to look at him. His thumbs press into Dean’s temples, which on its own is providing some relief, but it isn’t the sweep of grace healing he’s gotten so used to. Cas looks distressed.

Dean brings his hands up to cover Cas’s. “Hey, it’s all good. Don’t worry about it.”

Cas still looks distraught over this development. His hands slide from Dean’s face and dig into his shoulders. He won’t look in Dean’s eyes.

Dean desperately wants to make this right. He rubs his hands over Cas’s forearms and says, “Seriously, Cas, it’s just a hangover. I’ll live.” 

It’s the wrong thing to say. Cas finally looks at him again, but now he looks horrified. He clenches harder at Dean’s shoulders before pulling away completely. The move leaves Dean so bereft that for a moment he forgets about his hangover. He wants to put a hand on Cas’s back, but he feels like it’s the wrong move and he doesn’t want to keep making this worse. Dean glances at Jody like she might have an answer, but her shoulders just twitch in a microscopic shrug, her mouth pressed into a line of concern.

“Cas,” Dean starts, but then Sam and Eileen are putting food down on the table.

Both he and Jody groan. He should probably get some fresh air, but he doesn’t want to leave Cas.

Dean manages to sit through breakfast, and even succeeds in eating most of a piece of toast and drinking his coffee. Cas fidgets the entire time. Dean tries resting a hand on Cas’s knee at one point, but Cas shifts almost immediately, dislodging him. He tries to pass it off like he was simply turning towards Sam as they talk, but Dean can’t help the sinking feeling that it was intentional.

As soon as breakfast is finished, Cas excuses himself without explanation. Dean stares after him helplessly. Sam watches him go with a frown.

"Is he okay?" Eileen asks.

"He couldn't heal my hangover," Dean says.

"It's getting worse, isn't it?" Sam asks.

"His grace?" Jody asks.

Dean nods. "He slept last night and he's been eating more, but that's the first time he hasn't been able to use any grace at all."

What had begun as a minor worry has bloomed in Dean's chest into a thing with teeth.

"Is he—" Sam hesitates. "Is he gonna be okay?"

Dean swallows and clenches his jaw against a fresh swell of nausea that has nothing to do with his hangover. He doesn't know. He can't bring himself to look at anyone.

Jody reaches across the table and grasps Dean's hand, giving it a squeeze. "He seems fine otherwise, right?"

Dean tries to breathe through the panic surging in his veins. "Yeah," he manages. "I think so."

“So he’s probably fine,” Jody says simply, sounding far too reasonable for someone who is still at least ninety percent hangover. “Will you look at me for a minute?”

Dean tears his eyes away from the doorway and looks at her.

“Try not to spiral out on this,” she says, reading him perfectly. “And talk to him.”

“Jody’s right,” Eileen adds, gently.

Sam gives him his patented Sam Winchester sympathetic grimace and raises his eyebrows to say, _They have a point_.

Dean nods because he doesn’t really know what else to do. Then he pushes up from the table.

“Right,” he says, and walks out of the kitchen to track down Cas.

He’s not in the library, where Dean expected him to be. He ends up finding him halfway up the stairs, dressed in a coat and hat, a scarf wound around his neck. He’s holding the leash and Miracle is already at the door.

“Cas,” he says.

Cas pauses and looks at him. “I’m just taking Miracle for a walk.”

“Okay, I’ll come with you,” Dean offers.

“That’s okay,” Cas replies, and before Dean can protest, he’s following Miracle outside and the door is slamming shut behind them.

Dean doesn’t know how long he stands staring at the closed door. He only turns away when he feels a hand fall lightly on his arm. It’s Jody.

“He took the dog for a walk,” he says, sounding surprised even to his own ears. 

“He’ll be back.”

Dean scrubs a hand over his face. “Fuck. I don’t know how to do this.”

“Sure you do,” Jody says. “The best thing you can do is just be there for him. And I already know you’re good at that.”

Dean throws her a desperate look. He wishes he could be that sure.

“I have faith in you,” she assures him. 

  
  


*

  
  


Cas doesn’t return for an hour. Jody does her best to distract Dean, by getting him to teach her some poker tricks so she can finally win against Claire. It works for a bit, but it’s hard to focus when Dean’s mind is just a litany of _Cas Cas Cas_. 

Cas gets back and Miracle rushes towards Dean, tail wagging so hard his entire body wriggles with it. Dean scratches behind his ears, but he can’t muster the same level of enthusiasm he normally does. His eyes track Cas as he moves through the map room, into the library. Dean gets up from the table and follows him, leaving Jody in the middle of a hand.

Dean feels like he’s hovering before he even gets in the room. He’s still trying to figure out how they went from mostly good to this awkward dance of tip-toeing around each other. He hates it.

“How was the walk?” he asks, leaning against the bookshelves. 

“It was nice,” Cas says. He gives Dean a smile and the tightness in Dean’s chest unwinds a little. 

Cas ducks his head and injects some forced levity into his voice to ask, “How are you feeling?”

“Great,” Dean says. Which, okay, it’s a lie, but his headache is mostly gone and he managed to eat some of the leftover french toast and bacon while he and Jody played poker, so compared to an hour ago he does feel great. “Nothin’ a little coffee and aspirin couldn’t fix.”

Cas’s arm twitches like he’s about to reach for Dean, and, god, Dean wishes he would. But Cas just gives him a small nod and turns back to the books. 

Dean is terrified of making the wrong move, so he does nothing. He keeps leaning against the books until Jody, who must have been watching them, comes to break the strange tension.

“I should probably head out,” she says.

“You sure?” Dean asks, pushing himself away from the bookshelf with a brief glance at Cas. “You could stay another night if you wanted. We’re happy to have you.”

“No, that’s okay. I told the girls I’d be back by tonight. I appreciate the offer though.”

“Well, it was really good to see you.” Dean pulls her into a hug. “Call me if you need any more poker tips.”

Jody laughs. “I will. And you call me if you need anything.” She tilts her head and gives him a pointed look, eyes flickering briefly to Cas.

“Thanks, Jody.”

After Jody leaves, the rest of the day passes quietly. Cas continues the cataloging project with Sam while Dean and Eileen team up to clean the kitchen. By the time Dean makes his way back to the library, Cas has retreated to his room. He thinks he should give him a bit of space, so Dean hops in the shower hoping the hot water will wash away some of his more virulent anxieties. It works better than he thought it would.

Dean runs into Eileen on his way to grab a beer from the kitchen. She’s dressed nicely, in a pair of black slacks and pale pink blouse that he’s never seen her wear before. Her hair is styled in soft waves and she’s wearing red lipstick. Dean raises his eyebrows at her. She rolls her eyes, but blushes a little.

“Sam and I are going out,” she says.

He gives her an approving look and says, “Very nice.”

Eileen rolls her eyes again and then fixes him with a serious look. “How’s Cas?”

Dean shrugs and shoves his hands in the pockets of his sweats.

“Is there something else going on with you two?” she asks, too astute for her own good. Or for Dean’s good anyway.

He flushes and looks at his feet. There’s a hole in one of his socks that he didn’t notice when he put them on.

“There is,” Eileen says. She crosses her arms and gives him her best no-nonsense expression. “Spill.”

Dean rubs a hand over the back of his neck. He glances at her and that brief look is enough to tell him that she’s not letting him get out of this. He lets out a sigh.

“We haven’t…” he trails off and then moves his hands in the sign for having sex becuase of course he remembers that one.

Eileen raises her eyebrows. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Dean,” she says, and Dean finally meets her eyes. “You have to talk to him.”

Dean nods.

Eileen gives him a sympathetic smile and squeezes his arm. “We’ll be back later,” she says.

“Sure,” Dean says, but Eileen’s already down the hall by that point so she doesn’t see.

Dean doubles back, thinking better of grabbing a beer, and makes his way to Cas’s room. He knocks gently on the door.

“Come in,” Cas says.

Dean eases the door open and takes a step into the room.

“Hey.”

“Dean.”

Dean takes another step into the room. “I was hoping we could talk.”

Cas gives him a blank look and says, “Oh, are we talking about things now?” with such sarcasm that Dean almost flinches. The worst part is he probably learned that from Dean.

“Touche.”

Cas’s face immediately softens into something apologetic. “No, I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.”

Dean’s stomach churns. Of course Cas is frustrated with him. He’s been hot and cold for weeks and he can’t even have a normal conversation. He’s a repressed disaster.

“Oh,” Dean says, unable to manage anything else.

“Dealing with the ebb and flow of my grace had been more difficult than I’d anticipated,” Cas says. “I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I know it must be hard for you, too.”

Dean swallows. “Yeah, about that…”

“I know I’m different than I was,” Cas continues, as though Dean hadn’t spoken. “And I understand if that changes things.”

Dean frowns, trying to parse Cas’s meaning. “What?”

“I understand if you no longer want to pursue a romantic relationship with me,” Cas elaborates.

“What?” Dean repeats in disbelief. He crosses the room because he can’t continue this conversation with Cas out of his reach. Dean takes Cas’s face in his hands. “I don’t want that. Why would you think that?”

Cas blinks, looking flummoxed. “You keep pulling away from me.”

“Yeah, because I’m terrible at this,” Dean says. “Not because I don’t want you. You’re not different in any of the ways that matter. I don’t care about your grace, man, I care about you.” 

They stare at each other for a moment and Dean steels himself to ask the question that’s been nagging at him, the one he’s been terrified to ask, “Cas, what exactly _is_ happening with your grace?”

“It’s inconsistent, is all,” he says. “It goes in and out. A close approximation, I suppose, would be like trying to pick up a weak radio signal.”

Dean’s throat clicks as he swallows and he takes a breath, “But what does that mean for you?”

Cas frowns.

“Are you—” Dean clenches his jaw. “Are you dying?”

“No,” Cas says, finally bringing his hands to Dean’s hips. “What gave you that idea?”

Dean lets out a broken laugh and tips his face forward so their foreheads rest together. “Fuck, I dunno, man. It’s happened before, hasn’t it?”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.” Cas tugs Dean closer. “It just means I’m more human than I was. If it fades entirely that’s all I’ll be. Just human.”

Dean takes a breath and it feels like the first full breath he’s taken in days. “Okay.”

He shuts his eyes and rubs his thumb over the hinge of Cas’s jaw. When he opens them again he’s staring into the deep blue of Cas’s eyes. He pulls back to look at him better, the slope of his nose, the bow of his lips.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so squirrelly,” he says. “I, uh, look, it’s not a secret that I’m bad at talking about, well, everything pretty much. And that’s not gonna go away just because we’ve decided to do this thing, y’know? But I want to do better. I really want to be better at this for you. So, uh, I guess I should tell you that I’m fucking terrified.” He’s shaking. He wonders if Cas can feel it. If that’s why he presses his palms more firmly into the small of Dean’s back. “I’ve never really done this before. And, Jesus, I love you more than I ever thought it was possible to love anyone. And that scares the shit out of me. Because I don’t want to fuck it up. And I fuck up a lot. But also, uh, the grace thing kinda sent me for a spiral, I think. Not because you’re different. You’re perfect.” His voice breaks a little and he has to clear his throat. “Because I can’t...I can’t lose you again. I can’t. I have watched you die or almost die too many times. And I can’t, I can’t go all the way with this just to lose you again. I can’t do it, Cas.”

Cas is shaking his head. “You won’t have to. I’m not going anywhere. As long you want me to stay, this is where I’ll be. I love you, Dean Winchester.”

Dean lets out a small laugh that breaks over a sob he’s trying to hold back. “I love you, too.”

And then Cas kisses him. Dean makes an embarrassing noise that he’ll never admit was a whimper, and opens his mouth to deepen the kiss. He’s addicted to this. The slide of their tongues and the rasp of Cas’s stubble. Dean has known for years that Cas would ruin him for anyone else—that he already had, really, before Dean even thought this was something he could have—but that knowledge hadn’t prepared him for the way kissing Cas would thrill him every single time. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to it. Doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the sheer wonder of getting to have Cas like this.

Arousal courses through Dean, swift and hot. He can’t help the way his hips twitch forward, pressing the hardening line of his dick against Cas’s hipbone. Cas gasps and tugs at Dean’s waist, hitching him closer. Their kisses grow sloppy and wet, desperate as they clutch at one another trying to get closer. And it still isn’t close enough. Cas’s hands slide over Dean’s ass and Dean groans, mouths across Cas’s jaw and down his neck until he can get his tongue in the hollow of Cas’s throat. Cas tilts his head back with a soft gasp of surprise and rocks his hips forward, guiding Dean into a grinding rhythm with their dicks riding together. 

God, he wants...he _wants._ He wants everything with Cas. His mind skitters to the bottle of lube he found in Cas’s bedside drawer and his dick twitches, making a wet spot where he’s leaking precum into the cotton of his sweats. He’s overwhelmed by the possibilities. He wants to drop to his knees and take Cas into his mouth. He wants to get his hand around Cas and drag his thumb over the sticky wet head of his dick. He wants to press his fingers into Cas, open him up slowly, see if he can get him off just from that. He wants Cas to open him up, push inside him, and fuck him until his legs turn to jelly, until they’re both blissed out and dopey in the aftermath of their orgasms. 

He hardly knows what to do with his hands. They’re shaking as he runs them down Cas’s chest, over the thin fabric of his borrowed t-shirt (Dean’s t-shirt), then back up the curve of his ribs, thumbs skating over his nipples making Cas release a sharp noise of pleasure. “Dean,” he breathes, and Dean kisses him. He brushes their lips together lightly and works his hands under Cas’s t-shirt so he can rub teasing circles around his nipples without any fabric in the way. 

Cas groans and pushes his tongue into Dean’s mouth, turning the kiss filthy. He bucks forward, hard, and slides his hands down the back of Dean’s sweats, squeezing. Then he slips a finger between Dean’s cheeks and drags it firmly over Dean’s hole. Dean makes a broken sound in the back of his throat and grinds into Cas. “Jesus, fuck,” he whines. “Cas.”

They need to slow this down. Dean is about to go off like a rocket. This’ll be over before it’s even started and Dean will never get over the mortification. He gets his hands on Cas’s hips and stills them, pushes him back just enough that he can no longer feel Cas’s erection pressed against him, hot and distracting. Cas blinks at him slowly and lets himself be pushed. His eyebrows gather into a furrow as disappointment falls over his face. Dean kisses him to let him know they’re not done yet. 

“I just—we gotta slow down,” Dean says softly. “Wanna get your clothes off first.”

“Then get them off,” Cas growls, with such impatience that Dean laughs in surprise.

“Yeah, okay.” Dean is breathless with anticipation. He gets his hands back under Cas’s shirt, but this time he lifts it up over his head and tosses it aside. Cas does the same to Dean, not as smoothly, a little more frantically, less practiced, and that reminds Dean that Cas has never really done this. Not with someone he cares about. Not with someone who would care enough to treat Cas properly.

Dean runs his hands over Cas’s back with renewed confidence. He may be out of practice, but this is something that Dean knows he's good at. The secret to good sex, Dean’s learned over years of enthusiastic enjoyment, is simply paying attention to your partner. And there’s no one on this earth he’s paid closer attention to than Cas.

Dean drops a featherlight kiss on each of his cheekbones, on the tip of his nose, the hinge of his jaw. He trails his fingers softly over Cas’s ribs, down to his waist where he rubs his thumbs along the vee that disappears beneath his sweats. Cas moans, hips bucking and causing Dean's thumbs to slip lower. His hands scrabble and clutch at Dean's waist, eventually shoving Dean's pants down his thighs. Dean kicks his way out of them and gives Cas the same treatment.

Before Dean can tug them together, Cas slips a hand between them and wraps his fingers around Dean's dick. Dean grunts in surprise and thrusts into Cas's grip. Cas gets his other hand around the back of Dean's neck and kisses him. For a moment Dean's plans to slow down and draw this out get tossed out the window. Cas twists his wrist, bumps his thumb over the head of Dean's dick, and it's perfect. God, it's so fucking perfect. Dean drops his head to Cas’s shoulder and mouths at his collarbone. From this angle he can watch Cas's hand on him, can see the way Cas's dick is curving up towards his stomach, jumping when Dean releases a bitten off moan. 

Dean finally remembers himself and teases his fingers over Cas's dick before taking hold of him properly. Cas grunts and his rhythm stutters. Dean lifts his head from Cas’s shoulder and kisses up his throat, scrapes his teeth lightly over his Adam's apple.

"Dean," Cas gasps. His free hand squeezes Dean's bicep.

"Yeah." Dean regains some semblance of control and guides Cas towards the bed. Cas sits as soon as it hits the backs of his legs and Dean immediately drops to the floor in front of him. It's murder on his knees and he'll regret it in the morning, but right now he's looking up at Cas, who's pupils are blown wide and who's hair is mussed from Dean's fingers. He's so fucking beautiful Dean could cry. His thighs are warm and solid beneath Dean's hands and he can't help the way he's kneading at the muscles there, running his hands in fitful little strokes. He wants to figure out how to make Cas writhe. He wants to learn what will make him come apart at the seams.

Then Cas brings his fingers to Dean's mouth, tracing his lips, and Dean lets his mouth fall open around them. Cas's eyes widen and he pushes them in further. Dean sucks and drags his tongue over them. It's...it shouldn't be this hot, but Dean feels like his skin will ignite at any moment. 

Too soon Cas pulls his fingers from Dean's mouth and Dean moans at their loss, but then Cas drags them, saliva slick, over Dean's nipple and Dean's breath hitches as a fresh jolts of arousal rushes through his entire body.

"Jesus," he breathes, right against Cas’s dick. Cas shivers.

Dean nuzzles forward, nosing at his pubic hair, inhaling the musky scent of him. He mouths at the base of his dick and Cas groans. His hands come up to rest on the back of Dean’s neck as he licks up the shaft and drags his tongue over Cas’s slit where he’s leaking. Cas’s fingers tense in Dean’s hair. 

“Dean.” His voice is lower than Dean’s ever heard it, gravelly and plaintive all at once. Dean has never been more turned on in his entire life. 

He swallows Cas down as far as he can manage. It’s not as far as he’d like. He’s out of practice. He pulls back a bit and Cas’s hips twitch forward involuntarily. Dean plants his hands on Cas’s hips to hold him down and Cas strokes his hands over the back of Dean’s head. Then he breathes deeply and relaxes his throat, taking Cas down again and swallowing when he hits the back of his throat. Cas lets out a broken shout. Dean presses his thumbs into Cas’s hipbones to keep him from surging forward. He’s proud of himself when he pulls back and only coughs a little.

Cas brings his hands to Dean's face and strokes a thumb over his cheekbone. He presses the other to the corner of Dean's mouth. Cas looks at him with such reverence that for a moment Dean forgets to breathe. Time seems to stretch and slow.

"You're beautiful," Cas murmurs.

And Dean can't stand even this negligible space between them anymore. His knees strain and crack as he pushes himself up, but he still climbs into Cas's lap. He rolls his hips, dragging their dicks together. It's so good. It's fucking perfect. Everything about Cas is perfect.

Cas still has his hands on Dean's face and he tilts him closer so he can kiss him. They stay like that for a bit, just making out and hitching their hips together in a steady little rocking motion that causes the tension in Dean's pelvis to build slow and steady. He's so close. He's been close more or less since they started. He can tell by the way Cas is losing the rhythm that he's close too. He keeps breaking their kisses to gasp out these little bitten off groans that go straight to Dean's dick. Dean had had different plans for them. Plans that involved the lube in Cas's bedside drawer. But he knows he won't last that long now. And he wouldn't want to pull away from Cas long enough to grab it anyway.

Dean grips the back of Cas's neck with one hand, thumb pressing into the dip behind his ear, and works his other hand between them, getting his fingers around them both. Cas bucks beneath him and his next kiss misses Dean's mouth and lands on his chin.

"Dean," he groans, head falling forward so his nose drags down Dean's throat and he's breathing hot and fast against his collarbone.

"I've got you," Dean murmurs, mouth right next to Cas’s ear. His voice hitches as he repeats the words, like an oath, like a prayer, "I've got you, sweetheart. C'mon."

"Dean, I—I'm—"

"Yeah, Cas, c'mon. Fuck."

Even as Dean urges Cas on, he can feel everything pulling taut, ready to snap. He jerks his hips forward, once, twice, twists his fist around them and tightens his grip just enough—and his orgasm washes over him, jolting white hot through his limbs as he spills over his hand and both their dicks. Cas is only moments behind him, shouting Dean's name and clenching his fingers into Dean's hair tight enough to hurt.

Dean works them through it until it's too much. Then he let's them go and clutches at Cas's hip, not caring that he's smearing come all over him. Cas doesn't seem to mind or even notice. They're both breathing hard. Dean's nose is tucked up against Cas's ear and Cas is soothing his fingers through Dean's hair. Once they've each caught their breath Cas brings their mouths together again, kissing him thoroughly. If Dean were ten years younger it would be enough to get him worked up again. As it is, Dean is content with this lazy, post-orgasm makeout. His limbs are still tingling with residual pleasure and he's hyper-aware of every bit of his skin that is touching Cas.

When Dean pulls back to look at him, he's wearing a blissed-out expression and Dean is so overcome with joy (because this is his now, he gets to have this forever) that he starts laughing. Cas smiles and lets out a smaller laugh.

"What?" he asks.

Dean shakes his head and looks at him in wonder—the impossible blue of his eyes and the way they crinkle at the corners when he smiles this wide, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the chaos of his post-sex hair, the unlikely humanity of him. "I love you so fucking much."

It shouldn't be possible for Cas to smile wider, but he does, and then he pulls Dean in for another kiss, which is clumsy and too full of teeth because neither of them can stop smiling. 

Eventually they fall back onto the bed, sweaty and sated, if a little too sticky, but they're both too sex-sleepy and lazy to do anything more than a cursory clean-up. Dean pulls Cas close, settling against him in a position that is rapidly becoming his favourite, with his face pressed against Cas's neck, one leg slung over him to settle between his thighs, and his fingers trailing gentle, tickling patterns into the skin of Cas's chest. Cas, for his part, buries his nose in Dean's hair and traces his fingers idly over Dean's hip. 

They stay like that until Dean's stomach growls and they remember that they haven't eaten dinner, at which point Dean fetches food from the kitchen. And then he and Cas settle back into bed with a plate of reheated potatoes and Beef Wellington, and queue up a rewatch of _Schitt's Creek_. It's all very comfortable and normal and at a certain point it fully hits Dean that this is his life now. He gets to have this—Cas laughing at a silly sitcom while Dean rests his head on his shoulder and they pick at leftovers. 

Dean settles in more firmly against Cas, makes sure he can still see the laptop screen, and lets himself relax into it for maybe the first time ever. If this is freedom, Dean can't wait to do it for the rest of his life.


End file.
